


Le Doux Mensonge

by sheg0



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 08:26:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheg0/pseuds/sheg0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Mieux vaut une amère vérité qu'un doux mensonge." It's better a bitter truth than a sweet lie, they say, but in the real world, it's much more complicated than that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Le Doux Mensonge

When Cosima comes back, you’re perched on the edge of her bed, her robe still on, hands clutching tightly at the comforter. Her files about the other clones are back in the leather briefcase and you’ve left her desk just like it was before. But your mind is still reeling, your feelings are all over the place and your face must reflect how much of a mess you are inside because Cosima’s smile falls as soon as she takes a look at you.

“Hey,” she calls softly, dropping the bag with what you assume is the ice-cream on the floor unceremoniously, and is quick to sit next to you, putting a warm hand on your back. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You have to smile lightly at that, because she’s so damn good to you. She was before when you cried and she is now, face full of concern and warmth. You shake your head lightly and grab her other hand, cradling it on your lap.

“It’s nothing,” you answer as convincingly as you can.

She stops rubbing your back to push your hair behind your ear and you can see how she’s still unsure. So you smile a bit brighter, knock your shoulder against her and mumble: “I’m just hungry.”

Cosima seems to finally believe you and you hate yourself a little more for it; it’s just another lie you feed her and she takes it in without question, just with shinning eyes and her pretty smile.

“Well, as promised,” she stands to retrieve the grocery bag and hands you a box of the famous ‘Eskimo Pies’.

You take it curiously, and she watches as you inspect it, hands wringed together like an excited kid, waiting for you to tell her what you think about her favourite sweet. Seconds pass and she just stands there as you take one out, unwrap it and take the first bite. “Mmmmh,” you mumble, surprised how good they actually are. Her eyes go wide in question.

“You like it?”

“It’s delicious,” you answer as you take another bite. After all, the whole ‘I’ve never been this hungry after sex’ wasn’t a lie.

“Told ya,” Cosima says cheekily, even though she seems quite relieved. She unbuttons her coat and crosses the room to hang it. You follow her with your eyes.

“ _Merci beaucoup,_ Cosima” you say and she shrugs and waves her hand at you, as if it’s no big deal. But as she takes the coat off you realize that it _is_ a big deal. She went out to buy you ice-cream in the middle of the night, in nothing but her underwear and a coat on, and what did you do meanwhile? You looked through her stuff. You violated her privacy. You broke her trust.

With a hard swallow you try to push those thoughts to the back of your mind. Cosima crawls onto the bed and kneels behind you, snatching an Eskimo Pie from the box on your lap. You turn your head to look at her and she looks so effortlessly content as she unwraps it, that you believe for a moment that everything will turn out alright. That she’ll be okay and safe. That she’ll understand why you did what you did. That she’ll forgive you.

She moves to lean back on the headboard and you follow her. Your eyes rake over her delighted face as she bites on the ice-cream bar; you can’t help but smile at it. Your own Eskimo is melting slowly but you don’t really care. She catches you staring and blushes, then licks her lips in a way that makes your stomach churn.

You both eat in a comfortable silence, stealing glances at each other from time to time, until she tilts her head in that charming way and speaks.

“I used to eat this all the time when I was a kid,” she tells you. You take another bite. “I remember I thought they were made by actual Eskimos in some factory in Alaska or something.”

You chuckle at that because the image of a young, naïve Cosima is too endearing not to. You kind of want her to tell you more about her childhood, but then again, you just like hearing her talk.

“Yeah… I was a strange kid,” she adds somehow sadly. It makes you want to kiss her, just to erase that frown from her face.

“I’m sure you were a force to be reckoned with,” you assert, and it’s true. “Just like now.”

She laughs. “That, I was.”

Her ice-cream is almost over, and so is yours. She absentmindedly scratches her stomach, her mind apparently still lost in childhood memories. Your gaze drops on its own accord, following the path of her hand and all over the expanse of her tan, smooth skin; her taut tummy, her full breasts, her strong shoulders, her long neck, up to her face, which is unblinkingly staring back at you.

You swallow.

She has a bit of vanilla ice-cream on her top lip, but she doesn’t seem to notice. You raise your hand slowly and stop mid-air. “You have-“ Instead of finishing the sentence, you brush your thumb over her lip and she stays very still. Without thinking about it, you bring your thumb to your mouth and suck the vanilla off of it. Cosima’s eyes grow as dark as you’ve ever seen them and it makes your blood grow hot all over your body.

For the second time today, you are the one that breaks the insufferable tension. Carelessly dropping the rest of you ice-cream on the floor, you grab her by the back of her neck and attach her mouth to yours. She whimpers low in her throat and it only encourages you to straddle her. Her hands are quick and demanding on your back as you steal the air from her lungs, and then she's unfastening your bra, cupping your ass and pulling you to her. Pieces of underwear are being discarded, hands grabbing, and pulling, and even scratching. Your hips are moving without your consent and you kiss a trail from her mouth to her ear.

“You make me feel so much,” you whisper hotly to her. Your voice is so low and husky, and your accent so thick, you can barely recognize it. And as the words come out, you realize it’s the honest to God truth. She makes you feel cared for and confused and guilty and aroused and unstoppable. You pull back and she looks at you, open and sincere and with so much unadulterated desire that you have to bury your face on her neck because it overwhelms you.

Everything from that point on is kind of a blur. One moment you are leaving a hickey where her neck meets her collarbone, and the next she’s flipped you over and she’s got you pinned down to the bed. Before your mind can catch up, she’s kissing down your torso and disappearing under the sheets and leaving you to clutch desperately at the pillow and bite your lip hard enough to draw blood.

Twenty minutes later she will fall asleep in your arms and you will cry silent tears, but not because of the mindblowing orgasms, but because you’re falling for this girl and she’s going to get hurt, and you’ll be the cause of it.


End file.
